In the summer of 2000, I had an encounter with pasta that changed my perception of food.
I was 16 and visiting family in a rural backwater in northeastern Italy. At a modest hotel restaurant, I ordered a plate of spaghetti with cherry tomatoes. The dish was revelatory. Despite the simple ingredients — pasta, tomatoes, basil, olive oil, salt — it was densely packed with flavor. The tomatoes had the perfect ratio of sweetness to acidity, tasting nothing like the watery produce I was used to in North America.
I’ve since learned that many people have similar experiences while traveling around the Mediterranean. In Italy (or France or Spain or Turkey), they'll find palate-awakening tomatoes (or watermelons or peaches or lemons) — and then wonder why food doesn't taste nearly as good in the United States. Why does Europe get amazing produce while we're left with pabulum?
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